Seto May Cry
by Guardian-381
Summary: Seto-Joey Alternate Universe fic; The boys' dream vacation getaway turns into a nightmare when unexpected circumstances force them worlds apart.
1. Paradise in Flames

Alright, some notes before we get on to the story. First, thank you for bothering to read this, and I sincerely hope you enjoy it. Secondly, yes, the title is a spoof of that of the popular video game, "Devil May Cry", and more similarities between the two will become apparent as the story goes on. Without spoiling anything, though, let me just say that this is NOT Devil May Cry with YGO characters; there is an original plot, which brings me to our third point.

This story takes place in an alternate universe, in which Joey, Seto, and the Big Five are the only 'canon' YGO characters. There are also a few original characters thrown into the mix. I promise not to play them up too much; they're there for plot reinforcement, not plot advancement. Seto isn't such a cold, hard bastard because of Gozaburo's absent influence, and because he's been with Joey for so long. Some people might call this OOC, but the fact is that we are all moulded by circumstance, and so my interpretation of Seto's character under different conditions (no Mokuba, no orphanage, etc.) is as good as anyone else's. Joey, for the most part, remains untouched.

Other warnings include, possibly, minor swearing, character death, angst, some fluff in the first chapter, as well as supernatural themes and violent action scenes. Other warnings will be added as the chapters call for them, but for now, these are the basics.

Okay, thanks for reading through all that! On to the story.

Disclaimer: Only the plot and the OC's belong to me.

Chapter 1- Paradise in Flames (Joey's POV)

"Are you sure it's safe down there?"

"Seto, we aren't goin' down into Hell or anything."

"I think Hell's cleaner. And sulfur does not smell that bad."

I grab hold of his wrist. "It's just a subway," I say. "Think hard; one of those English tests you always aced

back in high school must have featured that word. You know, where the trains go through the underground tunnels?"

"That sign we just passed said 'Metro'."

I sigh. "That must just be the French word for it."

He grunts. "English is bad enough. Why did you have to choose a place where they speak French, of all languages?" He eyes the moving band of black rubber following the escalator downward as I drag him onto the moving steps. "And why couldn't we rent a car?"

"We're here because Montreal is as far away from Kaiba Corp. headquarters as I could get without getting us a shack on some island in the Atlantic, and we don't have a car because I wanted us to get the full big-city experience!" I flash him my trademark over-the-shoulder thumbs-up, and the corners of his mouth twitch in his version of a smile.

"And people say that there's no method to your madness," he deadpans as he slides a few colourful bills through the slot in the ticket-taker's window, asking for two bus passes in perfectly accented French.

I grin as he hands me one of the magnetized rectangles of cardboard. "I don't know why you gripe about the French," I say as I swipe it through the reader attached to the turnstile, band down. "I seriously think that you could learn Swahili in a week if you wanted to."

He snorts, his trench coat flaring in the constant draft. "Capability does not translate into willingness, or necessity."

I snicker, staring at him in open awe. "You know, I bet my vocabulary would be down the drain if it weren't for ya."

Over the roar of the train entering the station, he shouts in reply, "You mean it could conceivably get worse?"

I punch him in the arm playfully as the train slows, then stops completely. I live for days like this.

Too bad there are so few of them.

----

The hours blur into each other as we wander around the island city. The view from the illuminated cross on the mountain is beautiful, and the way his fingers thread through my own, our twin rings clinking together, makes it perfect.

He bought the rings a year ago, as an extra gift for my birthday. They sized his wrong, though, so he wears it on his middle finger instead of his ring finger. It also happens to be on his right hand instead of his left, for the sake of anyone who might be watching. I don't mind, though; it's the feelings behind the gesture that are important, not the empty tradition.

It's in this quiet, peaceful, intensely intimate setting that his phone decides to ring. Letting his hand fall away from mine with a sorrowful scraping of metal against metal, he pulls the device from his coat pocket. I can see that he's torn, but he answers it anyway. Just like all the other times. "Seto Kaiba."

I wander away, leaning against the cross and folding my arms against my chest. I try so hard not to get pissed every time this happens, and of course I love him anyway, but I wish he would just be with me once in a while. No Kaiba Corp., no phones, no time, no space... just us.

"I'm on vacation," I hear him say. "Well, is it important?" Of course it is; it always is. "How long's it going to take?" A pause. "It had better be, because I'm not staying one second longer." He snaps the phone closed, and walks over to me in a manner that I would describe as sheepish were it being exhibited by anyone but him.

"They need you for something important," I state, saving him the trouble. As I speak, I force a smile onto my face that I know he can see right through, but it's better than the glare I want to shoot at him.

"Yes," he replies. "Joey, I'm sorry. I just have to go to the downtown branch for ten minutes, to sign some papers."

"Alright." I nod bravely, self-effacingly. Guilting him is only going to make it worse; believe me, I've tried. "Let's get it over with, then."

He smiles and leans in to kiss my cheek. "Thank you," he murmurs.

I turn my face to catch his lips with my own before he can pull away. "Promise me it won't be forever," I recite. The words are familiar, but far from empty.

"I promise," he replies rotely, and together, we walk back toward the road.

---

The car arrives for us in ten minutes; Heaven forbid that their 'important business' be delayed by a leisurely bus ride. The Montreal branch of Kaiba Corp., which I didn't even know existed, is another glass-and-cement monument to capitalism, but in the afternoon sunlight, it almost reminds me of the proverbial ivory tower.

It's too bad that the tower only has room for one occupant.

The car stops, and we get out. Seto watches me from across the roof of the vehicle as I come around to face him, and the driver moves to stand behind him. "Do you want to come up with me?" he offers lamely.

I shrug, leaning against the car and trying to look indifferent. "Nah. I'd probably slow you down," I say, and the bitterness in my voice surprises me.

His chest rises with the force of his inhalation, but before he can speak, the driver taps him on the shoulder. "Excuse me, Sir, but I must remind you--"

"Wait a damn minute!" he barks, turning to me. "Joey--"

"Look, just go," I say, having mastered my tone enough to get it back into neutral. "I'll see you in a few, right? We can talk then."

His eyes meet mine contritely, and I feel a twinge of electricity arc between my ring and the skin beneath it. "Right," he says before turning toward the building, and I almost call him back, to apologize. I think better of it at the last minute, though; I can always say it later.

I stand there once he's left my sight, staring up at the building. I hate it, hate everything it stands for. I hate that it takes him from me, that it makes us fight. I hate it for exhausting him, for stealing his energy, even pieces of his soul.

Most of all, though, and wholly against my will, I hate him for letting it happen.

"Why do you even bother coming back?!" I explode, not caring who sees or hears, as long as he doesn't. "Why don't you just stay there for good?!"

And that's when the blast knocks me back into against the car, the tinkling of broken glass narrowly beating oblivion to my shell-shocked brain.


	2. Leftover Tokens

Thank you very much to everyone who read Chapter 1 of my little story, and that goes double for everyone who reviewed. I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as the first!

Now, for my thanks;

Silver Sage: Yes, it has been a long time, hasn't it? I'm glad that you missed me, and I hope that this story was worth the long wait. Thank you for remaining such a faithful fan! I always smile when I read your reviews.

Macduff's Mistress: Thank you for your dual reviews, on this story and on NYA. It's very much appreciated that you take the time to write a little note, and I hope you continue to enjoy this story.

A Person: Thank you very much for such a nice compliment! It's always nice to hear from a long-time fan, and it's even nicer to be back. I look forward to hearing more from you; thank you once again!

Konniwa: I'm glad you agree with me about Seto's personality, and I certainly agree with you on the workaholism part. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as you seemed to like the last one.

Her Esteemed Talentedness: Yes, it's definitely nice to be back. Thank you for the warm welcome! Don't worry; you don't need to have played Devil May Cry to understand this fic; as I said, this is pretty far removed from the actual story of that game, but since it reminded me of it, I used the title. I do agree that it has some humour value; most of all, though, it has a nice ring to it. Thank you once again, and I look forward to receiving more feedback from you!

Firewing: Thank you so much for everything you do for me. I appreciate every single instance of kindness with which I have been blessed by you, and I hope that one day, I can repay you a fraction of what you've given me. LOL, if it weren't for you, I doubt Seto May Cry would even have gotten off the ground! Thanks again.

Disclaimer: I own only the plot and the OC's.

Chapter 2: Leftover Tokens (Joey's POV)

I awaken to bright lights, assorted aches and pains that I've come to associate with bruises over the years, and the mother of all migraines trying to hammer its way out of my skull. Groggily, I try to shift, only to feel the unfamiliar tug of tape clinging to my arm, holding down a needle embedded in it. The stinging sensation is enough to immobilize me, and before I have enough of my strength back to attempt to rise again, a nurse enters the room.

"Ah, Mr. Wheeler, you're awake. I was going to give you a few more days before I began to worry, but if your quick recovery is any indication, you're doing remarkably well."

I groan softly, try to raise my arm to block out the lights, and fail miserably. "Where am I?"

"Saint Mary's Hospital," she replies. "You got a nasty concussion, not to mention quite a few cuts from the window glass..."

Suddenly, it all comes rushing back, and I jerk as much as my sedative-laced body can manage. "The Kaiba Corp. building," I whisper.

"That's right," she says, closing the door behind her and moving closer to me. I'm still too blinded by the light to read her nametag, but she seems to have a nice face. "Do you remember anything else?"

I close my eyes again. I hear myself shouting to the building, feel the shockwave... My eyes snap open. "Seto," I breathe.

"Pardon?" the doctor says.

I rise just the slightest bit, the pain lost in my burning desire to know what happened to my lover. "Seto. Seto Kaiba. He was in the building when it... when it... what did it do, exactly?"

She bites her lip, and my heart sinks to my knees, taking my stomach and a few other internal organs with it. "There was an explosion in the central elevator shaft, followed by three more under the foundations," she says honestly. "The entire thing collapsed. There can't have been any survivors."

I lick my own lips, trying to stave off the realization for a few more precious seconds. "Didn't they search? There has to have been someone... he has to be alive." Another, more important question surfaces in my mind, and I blink quickly. "How long have I been out?"

"A couple of days," she replies. "Rescue workers are still looking for survivors, but they aren't holding out much hope." She reaches down, adjusts my loosened IV, and squeezes my hand softly. Her hands are smoother than any silk I've ever felt. "Do you want me to call a counsellor?"

I jerk my hand away, raising it to show her my ring. "You don't understand," I protest, on the verge of delirium. "I would know. I would know if he was gone." I swallow painfully. "I... I loved him." _Why do you bother coming back?! _"We had it all figured out; we were gonna die together, in our sleep, so neither of us would have to be left alone, or go through any pain..." _Why don't you just stay there for good?!_

"You must have loved each other very much," she says, and those words send it all pouring in. _Seto's gone. He's dead, and the last thing I said to him, whether he heard it or not... oh, God..._

"I'm going to be sick," I whimper, and she holds out a conveniently placed basin for me, dumping it out in the sink once I'm finished.

"Do you feel better?" she asks.

"No," I answer. I would cry if I weren't so broken.

"These things take time," she says, giving my hand one final pat as she gets up. "If you need anything at all, just use that call button. We have some very well trained grief and crisis counsellors who would be happy to help you."

"I just need some time, please," I answer, cutting her speech off. I know she means well, but I can't deal with pleasantries right now. I just need to think.

She nods silently. "I understand. I'll be back to check on you in an hour or so, Mr. Wheeler." The door clicks behind her as she closes it, and I shudder.

Even if she hadn't said anything, I would have known he was gone once the shock wore off. My ring feels like dead weight on my hand, and I can't feel that same spark in it anymore. It's like a wire that's been unplugged from its socket; drained and close to useless. A leftover token of a love that no longer exists.

Just like its owner.

---

I spend the next few days in a blur of tests and nightmares. My guilt is overwhelmed only by my pain; the blazing pain of loss, of separation. It's the pain of the survivor, a pain so strong that it makes you question the value of being alive at all.

A few times a day, that same nurse comes to visit. Her name is Catherine, and she was nice enough to call my best friend, Elizabeth, back home in Domino, as well as charge Elizabeth's airline ticket to mine and Seto's joint credit card account. If it hadn't been for Catherine, I swear I would have broken down completely just from looking at that laminated plastic card; I remember the day he gave it to me, along with a whole bunch of other legal documents that made us as 'married' as the law allowed. It meant so much to me then, but, like the ring, it's just another dead token now.

A day or two later, Elizabeth sweeps into the hospital. I can hear her as soon as she gets off the elevator, demanding to know where my room is in a voice that could probably wake the dead. _If only it could. _Under normal circumstances, her mother grizzly routine is enough to make me fall over laughing; as it is, though, my face is frozen into a mask of anguished despair that I don't think will ever melt away.

Within moments, she's standing in the doorway, and her appearance, if nothing else, manages to draw the barest glint of amusement into my eyes. She's still carrying her suitcase, and one strap of her purse is down around her elbow. Her ravenhair is supposed to be tied back, but there's more of it outside the elastic than in right now. There are dark circles under her eyes that her makeup doesn't even come close to covering, but she's here, and seeing her makes my desolate universe just the slightest bit brighter.

She smiles shakily as she drops her bags and runs over to my bed, throwing her arms around my neck. "I came as soon as I could," she says, and I drape a weak arm across her back. "I'm so sorry it wasn't sooner."

"Thank you for coming at all," I whisper.

She pulls away and stares at me as though I were talking in tongues. "You don't need to thank me," she deadpans, and her tone is so much like Seto's that I start to sob brokenly, haltingly, right on the spot.

She hugs me again, tighter this time, and I can feel the warm wetness of her sympathetic tears against my throat, just where his lips always used to fall. "I'm here now," she murmurs soothingly. "Let it out. I'm here now, and we're going to get through this together."

Before I can respond, however, a noise from the door interrupts us, and I look over Elizabeth's shoulder to see five men in suits, standing in a line just inside my room. A flash of memory ignites in my mind, and I frown. _Seto's board of directors? What are they doing here?_

"Forgive our intrusion, Mr. Wheeler," begins a man I know only as Lector. Seto never bothered to call his employees by their first names, even ones so high up as these.

"We've come to offer our condolences," continues another. His voice is extremely irritating, and I can't help but compare his build to that of a cannonball, or perhaps a snowman.

"Such a tragedy," sighs yet another, shaking his completely bald head.

I begin to feel nauseous, and look to Elizabeth for support. To my surprise, she's absolutely fuming. "It took you long enough," she says levelly.

"Some of us have responsibilities," retorts a man I remember as Nesbitt, head of robotics technology. "We can't just go gallivanting off wherever and whenever we please."

"Please. Your first responsibility is supposed to be to humanity." If looks could kill, or at least seriously injure, Nesbitt would be gasping on the floor at Elizabeth's feet. As things are, though, he's still glaring right back at her.

"And how long have you been here, hmm?" steps in the final, snobbish man, pushing his glasses higher up on his nose as he gestures to her forgotten bags.

Elizabeth shifts her glare to him, but I can see that her sails, previously filled with the gale-force winds of anger, are now completely shredded. Before he can take advantage of her momentary weakness, though, I interfere. "Look, everyone knows that you guys didn't come here to tell me how sorry you are that Seto's dead," I say, my voice hoarsened by suppressed tears. "Why don't you just cut the crap and get to the point?"

The man with the glasses looks over at me, and his glare softens just a little bit. Under normal circumstances, I might have found him disarming, but right now, I'm too numb to feel much of anything. "Alright, then," he agrees. "My name is Nathaniel Johnson, and before his untimely demise, I was Mr. Kaiba's corporate lawyer." He clears his throat. "As such, it is my job to handle the disbursement of the late Mr. Kaiba's stocks, which, for some unfathomable reason, he left to you."

I stare blankly at him. "Seto... left his share of Kaiba Corp. to me?" I repeat.

"Yes," replies Johnson before continuing. "In effect, this means that you can step into his role as CEO of Kaiba Corp., but being that you have no prior business experience, I would advise you instead to sell everything. There is far more than enough, at the current price, for you and any... heirs," he coughs on that last word, "to live comfortably for generations to come."

I let his thinly veiled insults go, thinking about this new turn of events. Seto left the company to me. He always said that, outside of our relationship, Kaiba Corp. was all he felt he could be proud of. For him to leave it in my hands has to be more than an empty gesture; he must have believed that I could handle it.

"No," I reply, and Johnson cocks one eyebrow.

"I beg your pardon?" he says.

"No," I repeat. "I won't sell my share of the company. I'm going to run it."

Elizabeth's mouth falls open, and the five board members seem at least twice as shocked as she is. "Mr. Wheeler, I must protest--" Johnson begins.

"Seto left it to me," I growl, fisting my hands in the thin blankets. "You don't get a say in this!" My grief changes into a rage, and I feel stronger than I have since the explosion. "It's all I have left of him," I go on, more quietly, "and if you try to take it from me..." I trail off, suddenly feeling closer to Seto than I have in a very long time, "I'll just fire you all."

The room goes totally silent. Elizabeth's fighting a smirk, and the five suits look like they're liable to start spitting bullets at any moment. "You're making a mistake," the bald one warns me.

"I don't give a damn," I spit. "Now, get out."

They obey, if only out of fear for their jobs, not to mention the assorted perks that go with them. Once they're out of earshot, Elizabeth turns back to me, a lopsided grin splitting her face. "You certainly haven't become any less direct."

I sigh, flopping back down onto my pillows. "I'm starting to think that that's the only thing that hasn't changed," I say softly.


	3. Bargaining With The Reaper

Okay, this is probably going to be the last quick update for a while, but future chapters should be posted a week apart or less. Thanks once again to all my lovely readers and reviewers, and I hope that you all enjoy this next installment of Seto May Cry.

On to the thanks!

Queen of Games: It's been a while, hasn't it? I'm glad to find that you're still around! This story is rather different from The Ride, or anything else I've written, really, but I hope you'll like it nonetheless. Oh, and I'm very glad you like Elizabeth; I would have used Mai, but I didn't want any prejudices associated with her relationship with Joey to factor into things. Let's hope you like this next OC as much!

Silver Sage: You still rock too, Silver! LOL, we'll see how the rapid updating goes, and if you think THAT was raping Joey's emotions, you ain't seen nothing yet! Looking forward to your next review!

A Person: Thank you very much for reviewing a second time. Perhaps you sense a bit of foreshadowing... read on to find out just how much. Oh, and you don't need to stop with the fangirl-gushing, LOL. I'm just glad that there are people who appreciate my work; as I've always said, you guys make it all about five times as worthwhile, although writing is in itself fulfilling for me. Actually, to tell you the truth, I wouldn't have posted this story at all if it hadn't been for Firewing, my beta... Thank you as well for the praise for The Ride. It means a lot, since that was both the hardest, yet most satisfying work to write.

Tess: Hey, girl! Thanks for the welcome-back, LOL. I can't wait to chat with you on MSN again, and I hope that you continue to read, enjoy, and review this new story. (hugs) Thanks for being a friend.

Flame Swordsman: Awesome, different, and original are very high praise on their own; together, they're almost too much. Almost. :P I'll do my best to keep this up to previous chapters' standards, and I do hope you'll keep reading it!

Macduff''s Mistress: Yep, Joey owns KC now! Thanks for your review on Butterflies; I'm glad to hear it touched you enough to make you cry! As to the next chapter... scroll down just a bit, and you'll find out!

Alright, just a quick note. The supernatural stuff gets started here, and the plot thickens as well, so if anyone has any questions whatsoever, please feel free to either e-mail me or ask them in a review. I really don't mind answering them!

Disclaimer: I own only the plot and the OC's.

Chapter 3- Bargaining With The Reaper (Seto's POV)

"Alright, everyone. C'mon, single file, no pushing. Every seat's just as depressing and miserable as the next one."

I come back to myself slowly. I seem to be lying in a sea of shattered debris, yet I feel nothing. No glass crunches as I struggle to rise; no sharp pieces of metal pierce me, although they're jutting out all over the place like fatal blades of grass. My hands obediently move up to my eye level in order that I might ascertain just how extensive the damage to my body is, but any injuries I might have are completely forgotten when I set eyes on them.

They're glowing.

/What--/ I start to say, only to realize my voice is now little more than a faint, telepathic echo. /What's happened to me?!/

My head snaps up, and I see row upon row of humanoid figures, all transparent, and all glowing in the same manner as I am. Standing in sharp contrast to their scintillating light, facing and directing the lines, is a perfectly solid-seeming man who might have looked normal if not for his dress. From the neck down, perfectly interlocking plates of dark green armour cover his body, and a cape of a slightly lighter shade adorns his back, perfectly still despite the swaying trees immediately to the man's right.

As I rise to my feet, trying not to think about the fact that I'm floating instead of standing, he turns to me, his long black hair streaming down his cape. "Come on," I hear him say, although his lips don't move an inch. "Get in line. You might have all eternity, but I certainly don't."

/Who are you, and what the Hell's going on?/ I shout mentally, for lack of any other means of communication.

He rolls his dark eyes toward the violet, darkening sky. "I hate the violent kills," he grumbles. "They're always so clueless."

/Kills?/ Suddenly, I remember everything; the explosion, the fire, the burns, the sound of the building creaking as it collapsed on itself. I can feel the shards of glass tearing paths into my skin, shredding my expensive clothing as though it were no more than a spider's webbing. Most vividly of all, I remember Joey, leaning against the car, trying his best not to make me feel guilty for abandoning him during our vacation. If only I had stayed with him, ignored that call... /Damn it!/

The armoured man flinches. "Phew, that's a lot of anger," he says. "Definitely can't leave you around here alone; you'd turn into a poltergeist, or worse, and I'd probably get blamed for that, just like last time..." He raises his hand, beckoning once to me. "Come."

I feel a strong pull, but manage to resist through an effort of sheer will. /No!/

His hand slips downward, just the slightest bit. "You can't remain here, among the living. You're dead."

/I have to know... I have to know that he's alright./ A horrible thought occurs to me, then, and I force my eyes to sweep the gathered souls, praying that I won't find him there. /Is he here?/

The armoured man closes his eyes, and I feel a slight tug against my mind before he reopens them. "Ah, a lover. I should have known as much; only that foolish emotion gets you humans so worked up." He snaps his fingers with a clink of metal, but nothing happens. "Nope. Your boyfriend's not here, which means he must still be alive. Unless, you know, his ambulance got hit by a Mack truck, or something..." He smiles. "I doubt it, though. I'd certainly have remembered such a pretty specimen."

/Is he alright, though?/ I attempt to glare at him, but my withering stare has no effect on this enigmatic being.

"Were you just especially pigheaded in life, or something? Seriously, one-track mind..." He grins. "If I show him to you, will you come quietly?"

/Show me, and then we'll talk./ If this guy thinks he's going to out-deal the ex-CEO of Kaiba Corp., he's in serious need of a common sense upgrade.

He nods. "Fair enough," he replies, and the world is lost in a blaze of green light.

---

When my vision clears, I'm standing with the armoured man in the whitewashed hallways of a hospital. A nurse passes through me, and we both shiver, for different reasons. /Where is he?/ I demand, snapping my head back and forth like some crazed owl.

Before he can answer, though, I notice five suited men striding confidently yet irately down the hallway, heading straight for us. /What are they doing here?/

"I thought we were supposed to catch both of them in the blast," growls Gansley, and my eyes widen momentarily before narrowing into slits.

"Wheeler was supposed to be in the elevator as well," replies Lector. "It was simply luck that he escaped."

"Simple luck it may be, but he's still breathing, and that means we aren't any better off than we were with Kaiba," Crump says, spitting off to the side of the hallway. "The odds against him were so overwhelming, I didn't think it necessary to tip things any more in our favour."

"Gentlemen, I don't see why you're so uptight," interrupts Johnson. "After all, we still have four souls between us, and I very much doubt Wheeler's luck will last him through another attack."

"Easier said for you, Johnson," grunts Nesbitt. "You've got nothing left to lose."

"The loss of one or two souls is secondary to procuring leadership of the Kaiba Corporation." Johnson passes through me then, and I am assaulted by wave after wave of hungry, devouring emptiness.

/What are they?/ I ask, my words punctuated by the mental equivalent of a gasp.

"Sorcerers, probably," replies the armoured man helpfully. "They've apparently struck a bargain with some higher-up in the Underworld; their souls for worldly gain." He clicks his tongue. "No imagination. Oh, well, that's five less souls for me to worry about."

/Are you saying that they're responsible for the explosion?/ I don't wait for an answer before continuing. /Joey. They're going to target Joey next./

"Seems that way," he confirms. "Well, you know he's alright if they're worried about him. Can we go now?"

I stare at him incredulously. /I can't go with you! I have to help Joey!/

He looks at me, raising one eyebrow amusedly. "I can think of at least one little snag in that plan," he snorts. "Come on. I still have continents to visit before my dinner break."

My mind races as he raises his hand to send us back to the blast site, and I grasp wildly for any argument with the slightest chance of convincing him to help me save the only person I've ever truly loved. /Wait./

He sighs, but lowers his hand. "What now? Do you want to sleep with him one last time, because I'm tellin' you, that's not happening."

/I have a proposition for you,/ I say, and he bursts out laughing.

"Oh, this should be worth the two seconds it'll take for me to shoot it down," he says around a smirk.

/Bring me back to life, so that I can save Joey./ I hold his gaze, my eyes never wavering once. Who would have thought my business training would come in handy bargaining with the Reaper?

"And why would I do something like that?" he asks patronizingly.

I grin. /If you let those bastards kill Joey, they'll get control of Kaiba Corp., and use its plants to produce cheap weapons instead of video games. Cheap weapons means cheap war, which means--/

"I get busy, real fast." The armoured man stares at me for a moment, then lets out one last bark of laughter. "You're pretty quick for a human."

/Cut the compliments. We don't have time,/ I snarl. /Are you going to help me, or do you want to spend years rounding up soul after soul, all of them, as you put it, 'violent kills'?/

He folds his arms over his chest. "You do realize there would be conditions, don't you?" he says, and I'm sure my heart would have skipped a beat if it wasn't so much dust by now.

/I don't care. Joey's my only concern right now,/ I reply confidently.

His eyes glitter imperceptibly. "Hold on, then. I'm told this hurts like Hell," he says, and my world explodes again, this time into a sea of pain.


	4. The Rules of the Game

Welcome back to 'Seto May Cry', everybody! (crickets chirp) Hmph... well, thank you to all those who have been reading and reviewing once again. For some reason, it seems that I didn't get as many reviews on this last chapter as I have on the rest, and I hope that, if it's due to anything like deterioration of the quality of the story or people not understanding, at least one person would let me know (preferably without flaming). In any case... this chapter finishes off the basic setup of the story. It should be all downhill from here! :)

Enjoy, and on to the thanks!

Kumori Sakusha formerly Saelbu: I really hope I spelled that right... thank you for your review, and I hope you like this chapter as much as you did the previous ones!

Queen of Games: Hey, again! LOL, no, he is most definitely NOT Celtic Guardian, but that was a majorly good guess! Nope, the Reaper is another of my OC's, with no relation to the YGO world whatsoever. I went with green because black is so overdone, and... yeah, his personality kinda wrote itself. Well, anyway, Seto is back! Enjoy this next chapter (still in Seto-kun's POV!).

Firewing: Maybe YOUR Reaper wants as many souls as he can catch, but MY Reaper's lazy... :P Thanks again for reviewing, although you really don't have to. Goodness knows I haven't been on IKYOTS! Oh, and about that... (cowers behind a rock) It'll be done soon, okay? Don't kill me! ;)

Flame Swordswoman: I am so sorry about calling you "Flame Swordsman" in the last chapter thanks. I only realized it after I posted, and, well... I apologize. LOL, there's no Joey in this chapter, but he will be in the next, and I hope that this story is long enough to get, as you say, 'many reviews'. Thanks for your continued interest, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Tess: Cynical and lazy, that's our Reaper! Aww... thanks for the compliments, and I hope that you like this chapter as much as you did the last few. Seto might not be a zombie, but there is a nice little twist that makes things a lot more interesting... enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own only the plot and my OC's.

Chapter 4: The Rules of the Game

Once again, I wake up in the remains of the Kaiba Corp. building; this time, however, I am fully conscious of every sharp, uncomfortable edge digging into my body. _My body. I have a body_.

The cold metal toe of a boot nudges my ribs, none too gently. "Get up, lazy. I didn't stick my neck out to watch you sleep."

I grunt in pain as I drag myself to my feet, fully conscious of each nerve ending as it protests this action. "I'm alive?" I ask groggily, inwardly overjoyed by the sound of my own voice.

He sighs. "Yes, you're alive! Just don't go screaming it to the heavens, though, okay? They won't like it."

I nod my understanding, glancing around at the blast area with fresh eyes. There are no more shining figures, and where the sky above was once tinted by the rosy glow of sunset, it is now draped in the aura of false dawn. A soft breeze stirs my hair, and I sigh dreamily. As cliché as it sounds, it's a gift to be alive.

Suddenly, I realize that I'm completely unclothed, and flush deeply as I shrink from the armoured man's piercing gaze. "Please," he chuckles, rudely refusing to avert his eyes. "You're acting like you're the first human I've seen naked. What do you think happens when people have heart attacks during sex?"

My blush intensifies, and as my hands brush against my bare skin, I notice that it feels radically different to my touch. Surprised, I glance downward, and immediately feel ill; there is not one inch of my body, save my hands, that is untouched by either scar tissue, extreme blistering, or a sickening combination of the two. Surprise gives way to total shock, and I glare up at the armoured man, forgetting my embarrassment. "What's this?!" I demand, gesturing to my abused body.

"I told you there would be conditions," he says with a lopsided grin that reminds me of Joey. "You come back as you were the instant before your injuries became fatal. Since you died in a fire, there was extensive burning before it finally did you in. So, that carries over." His grin broadens. "What does it matter, though? You're here to fight, not to be a stripper."

I fight back a moan as my hands travel over my scarred face, through my singed hair. _Calm down. It's just physical appearance. Joey'll love you anyway. Oh, but how can I go back to him like this? _"Can I at least have clothes?" I say, using my voice as a weapon against the doubting echoes in my mind.

"I suppose so. Can't have your misplaced modesty interfering with any battles." He levels one finger in my direction, and a black light threaded with azure begins to swirl around me. Black leather pants encase my legs, disappearing into combat boots of an even darker shade. A long-sleeved silken shirt takes shape over my upper body, open slightly around the neck. Its hemline stops just above the waistband of my pants, and as I watch, mystified, a length of chain encircles my hips. The entire outfit looks skintight, but I feel no different wearing it than I did without it.

The armoured man draws a circle in the air with his extended finger, and a royal blue cape settles over my shoulders, spilling down my back and just past my waist. A high collar attached to it covers the lower half of my face, and unconsciously, I try to hide more of my scarred visage beneath it. He smiles, striding quickly around me before coming to a stop less than half an arm's length away, staring directly into my eyes.

"You ever considered being a model?" he asks, then laughs sardonically. "Well, too late for that now, isn't it?" As I frown, he returns to grinning. "Just a bit here..." He taps the bridge of my nose, and a pair of blue-tinted sunglasses spread over my eyes. With a nod, he steps back. "There. I think that ought to do it." As an afterthought, he points at my throat, and a silver cross appears, settling over the small patch of skin with a tingle of cold metal. "I doubt your boyfriend would recognize you."

"I don't," I reply immediately, still trying to digest that it's really me standing here, wearing what I consider to be a ridiculous getup. _At least it's clothes._

"Maybe you're right," he concedes. "Alright. Clothes are out of the way. Now, let's talk weapons. Which ones are you most proficient with?"

I stare at him blankly, suddenly thankful for the shades obscuring my eyes. "I am well-versed in certain martial arts," I say, clearing my throat modestly.

He throws his head back, and laughter peals across the desolate expanse of debris, reverberating off the empty office buildings surrounding us. "Kicks and punches only make demons angry," he explains as the last echoes fade away. "Know how to use anything else?"

I shake my head. "I can fire a gun. That's about it."

He snorts. "Guns. You humans have a way of taking all the fun out of war. Guns, nuclear missiles... not only do they lobotomize fights, but they kill people in such astronomical numbers that I can't help but get backlogged!" His tirade stops suddenly, and he sniffs in what I consider to be a very superior manner. "Whatever, then. Take these."

He makes a tossing motion, and twin swords clatter to the ground at my feet. As I heft them, swinging them to test their weight, I realize two things; one, they're insanely light, and two, calling them swords is probably a mistake. They're more akin to very long, thin daggers than swords.

"Those should fit right into your fighting style, with a bit of practice," continues the armoured man. "And believe me, once those sorcerers recover from their last attempt, you'll be getting plenty of that."

"Recover?" Absently, I thrust the blades through links in my chain belt, feeling them sting my thighs as though there were nothing between my burnt flesh and their cruel sharpness.

"Invoking forces of such a magnitude that they require souls as payment isn't easy," he explains. "But they should be able to recast the spell in a few days, tops." His gauntlet clinks as he dismisses this train of thought with a wave of his hand. "For now, there are other things you need to worry about, like the rest of the conditions surrounding your resurrection."

"I'm listening," I say, sweeping my cape back over my shoulder in a cavalier fashion.

"One, your power is not to be used for any sort of personal gain, or to perpetrate any violence that is not directly necessary in the safeguarding of innocent lives." He recites the terms rotely, as though this were something he does every day. "Two, you must let as few people as possible see you, and let none know your true identity." At this, he smirks. "Looking as you do, that should be an easy rule to abide by."

"Can we dispense with the commentary?" I growl.

"No sense of humour either, I see," he observes dryly. "Very well, then. Under normal circumstances, those are the only conditions to which you would be expected to conform. However, your case is a special one, and there are a few other things I need to go over with you."

"What do you mean by special?" My back tenses, and I straighten as though someone had just replaced my spinal cord with an iron rod.

"Well, your death was paid for with a human soul. Cheating that kind of magic isn't easy, but I found a way around it." I notice a slight shift of his eyes, and realize that he is no longer maintaining eye contact.

"Go on," I prompt him.

"All your energy is being drawn from your lover's pain. The more he's hurting, be it physically or emotionally, the stronger you will be." The armoured man pauses, allowing his words time to sink in while I stand there, completely stunned. "If, at any point, he is no longer in pain, you will cease to exist."

I hold up one hand. "Wait a minute. You're telling me that, if Joey is relieved of his pain for even a single minute, I disappear?"

"No," he replies, and my heart leaps before sinking even lower than it was before he spoke. "I'm telling you that if isn't hurting for a _second_, you're gone."

"There has to be another way!" I shout, as though uttering the words at a greater volume will change anything. "I won't be some sort of.. parasite, living off Joey's pain like that!"

"You don't have a choice," he states simply. "Either you do it this way, or those sorcerers get to have their way with him." His gaze turns pensive. "Who knows what they'll do with him before they kill him; rape, torture, beating..."

"All right! I'll do it!" I yell, just to cut him off. The thought of even one of those atrocities being perpetrated on my precious Joey is enough to make me want to level this entire island just to get at those treacherous bastards.

"That's the spirit!" he crows, slapping me on the shoulder none too gently. I wince, and he frowns. "Whoops, forgot those burns were still fresh. You might want to steal some cream for that."

"Why can't I just..." I would have said 'buy it' had I not remembered the rule about keeping a low profile. I doubt any pharmacy workers would forget the scarred man in leather anytime before the next century.

"Exactly," he says. "Don't worry, though; judging from this Joey dude's current anguish level, you should be able to pull this off easily. Just a little stealth spell, and maybe a bit of lockpicking..."

The word 'spell' reminds me that I have no idea what sort of new powers I might have. "You've neglected to tell me what else I can do," I say.

Once again, he smirks. "What fun would that be?"

"What fun is getting killed because you forgot to brief me on how to use my so-called 'powers'?" I shoot back.

"Don't worry. Your body knows what to do." He waves my concerns off as though they were little more than pesky fruit flies. "Just don't forget what you're fighting for, and you'll be alright."

How could I? I'm fighting for Joey. "That's not very reassuring," I deadpan.

"Perhaps not," he says with a wink, "but it's all you're getting." With one final chuckle, he turns on one metal-clad heel, waving over his shoulder at me. "Good luck, Seto Kaiba. You're going to need it, big time."

I exhale deeply once he's gone, watching as false dawn fades under the first rays of the sun. My first order of business is going to be finding a place to stay until Joey decides to go back to Domino. Then, I'll have to take care of these burns and figure out as much as I can about my new abilities before I need to use them. _He said I have a few more days before they can attack us again; better get started, then._

As I turn toward the west, away from the rising sun, its light glints off something buried in the rubble. Curious, I reach down, expecting to find only a shard of glass. Instead, I pull out my silver wedding band, slightly dirty but not seriously tarnished. Reverently, I slide it onto my right middle finger, where it belongs, and the welcome chill of the metal ring bolsters my courage.

I swear to you, Joey, I vow sincerely, _I will protect you. Whatever it takes, I will not allow any harm to come to you. This I swear on the love I bear for you, and that which I know you bear for me._

My promise made, I leave this desolate gravesite behind. I have very little time before my ability to make good on it is tested, and this is a test which I do not intend to fail.


	5. Fragile Hope and Ghostly Hatred

Hi, everyone! First of all, I do apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. As always, writer's block and a hectic life seem to have conspired to stop me from continuing this story, but I think I've bulled through them now, LOL. Thank you for your patience.

Before I get to my personal thanks, I would like to dedicate this story to Starfly, one of my most faithful and conscientious reviewers, who has recently lived through a great personal tragedy that I would not wish on my worst enemy. If this story can give you some sort of hope, or help you out in any way, I will consider my task more than fulfilled, Starfly.

Now, on to the thanks;

Kumori Sakusha formerly Saelbu: I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter, and even more glad that I got your name right, although I'm sure you'd be mature enough to chalk it up to human error on my part... still, best not take the chance you're having a bad day! :P Yep, Seto's back to stay, so enjoy, although his role in this chapter isn't that big.

A Person: Perhaps I wasn't making myself clear in the first chapter about the link between this story and Devil May Cry. I apologize if this is the case. First, Seto's outfit and weapons, as well as his powers (and eventual Devil Trigger) are ripped right off Lucia, Dante's 'partner' in DMC 2. In addition, the idea of sorcerers might be said to have come from DMC 2, specifically from the villain named Arius. Finally, the monsters, the first of which is introduced in this chapter, are taken straight from DMC 1. I'm sure this particular one gave you fits if you made it to Hard/Dante Must Die mode, or tried certain Secret Missions! However, I never said that this story was 'based on' Devil May Cry, and perhaps that's where you're becoming confused. There are similarities, but the story has not been kept intact in any fashion. I hope that addresses your concerns, and yes, I do realize that the last chapter was ripped right out of 'Spawn'... I apologize for not realizing and acknowledging that sooner. Thanks for being a careful enough reader to notice it!

Her Esteemed Talentedness: I am so sorry that I haven't reviewed your stories! I swear I will catch up as soon as I execute this homework pile; it keeps coming back to life, and getting uglier every time! I'm sorry to hear that your review was cut off, but what I did see was great, and made me smile. I hope you continue to grace my story with your feedback, and I will get around to reviewing your stories as fast as I can, promise!

Sapphire Siren: LL! Hey! Thanks for the feedback on the story. Yeah, I'm not online much if at all anymore, but who knows? Maybe we'll get a chance to chat eventually... please, keep reading! If not for me, then for Tenshi-chan... LOL!

Queen Of Games: LOL, pretty much, yeah, but if you ask me, the idea of a secret protector is too romantic to pass up. Thanks so much for your continued reviewer-ship, and I hope to read some more of your reviews soon! Later!

Tess: You're so very kind to say that my fic isn't going downhill! (smiles) I'm very glad you think that the plot's good so far, and that you're still reading my humble efforts to write. Thank you very much.

Starfly: I'm not going to bore and anger you with the same stupid platitudes that I'm sure everyone is spouting off, and nor am I going to drown you in an ocean of pity. Suffice to say that you have been nothing but an amazing person to me, and if there is ANYTHING I can do for you, please, let me know, either via review or the address in my profile. As I said above, I hope this story can, in some small way, help you through this difficult time, and if you ever feel that you need me, do not worry about 'sparing me your crap'. It's not crap, and I can't stand to see another human being in pain if I can help it. Of course, I understand why you might not feel comfortable talking to a stranger about this, and if that's the case, I respect that too. Just know that I'm here anytime, should you choose to ask me for help. I would be honored and grateful for the chance. You're welcome, and enjoy the next chapter of your story.

Hema: In your second review, you hit the nail right on the head, with the pain-wavering thing; very observant, and good reading-between-the-lines skills! :) Thank you so much for your continued readership and friendship; it means so much to me that we've been able to connect in such a meaningful way, and I'll always treasure our bond and your insight. Looking forward to your next review, Princess! (hugs) You are definitely the most unselfish and beautiful friend anyone could ever ask for.

Warnings: Same as always... let's tack on witchcraft here, though, shall we?

Disclaimer: I own only the plot and the OC's.

Chapter 5: Fragile Hope and Ghostly Hatred

(Seto's POV)

A day later, sharing an abandoned building with rats and a homeless man, I curse myself for ever asking to come back to life. I'm hungry, cold, and my wounds ache every time I move, let alone attempt to practice with my new blades. In addition to all that, I have yet to get a single spell to do anything but make the schizophrenic homeless man look at me as though I were the one they should be carting away.

I had been lucky enough to find this boarded-up store less than an hour after leaving the remains of the Kaiba Corp. building. Attempting to steal some sort of ointment had been far less simple; apparently, if I am capable of using magic, the forces governing it seem to consider stealing necessities to fall under the heading of 'personal gain'. I did manage to retrieve some sort of medicinal compound before the alarms went off, but I have a feeling that any improvement I might experience while using it will be purely coincidental.

During the day, I remain here, trying to decide whether this is real or whether I'm about to wake up next to Joey at any moment. During the night, I walk through the semi-deserted streets, avoiding even the most drunk or stoned of degenerates. For some reason, I usually wind up at the ruins of the Kaiba Corp. building, staring out at the sea of rubble until the stars all vanish from the night sky and it's time to repeat the cycle that has become my life.

On the fourth such evening, however, candlelight warns me of the presence of others as I near the site of my death, and I use a conveniently placed fire escape to ascend to the roof of a nearby building. Bracing one foot on the edge of the rooftop, I lean over in order to discover the source of the flickering light.

A few stories below me, a giant crowd surrounds the ruins of the building, many of them holding candles and flowers. _A memorial_. Instinctively, my eyes search out a familiar shock of blond hair, and find it attached to a man with a candle and slumped shoulders. Joey.

I want nothing more than to go down to him, to hold him, to tell him I'm alright. I almost call out to him, but the words die in my throat as I notice a group of five men, standing off to the side. Their eyes are riveted on Joey, and a snarl works its way into my throat. _If I break the rules and reveal myself now, I'll disappear, and he'll be completely at their mercy._

With a snort, I stalk back toward the fire escape, my cape billowing out behind me as I vault onto it and descend. One more moment of such close proximity to him might find my resolve weaker than its temptation, and I will not jeopardize both our existences in such a manner unless absolutely necessary.

My boots strike the concrete alleyway silently, and I shuffle back toward the abandoned building that, for the time being, serves as my home. My few days of adjustment time should be up by now, I realize, which means I'm going to have to start formulating strategies for staying close to Joey twenty-four hours a day without him ever suspecting a thing. _Maybe the magic'll work for that, at least._

Of course, I find myself unable to put much faith in that possibility. _Let's hope whatever they send after him doesn't require anything more complicated than a few slashes. Otherwise, we're both doomed._

---

(Joey's POV)

I jerk my head up from the candle in my hands suddenly, ignoring the wax dripping onto my hands as I do so. Beside me, Elizabeth also looks up, casually resting one hand on my shoulder. "What is it?" she whispers, obviously afraid of seeming disrespectful.

My eyes scan the sky, the almost-invisible rooftops. "I thought..." I start to say, then shake my head. "Never mind. It was nothing."

She looks like she's going to say something else, but then someone starts whispering another prayer, and both of us bow our heads. _It's just the atmosphere,_ I tell myself. _My imagination's going nuts._ Still, though my mind knows it's a cruelty, my heart wants to believe that it was really him. In my current state, there is no contest between them, and I smile half-heartedly into the candle's flame.

I might be stuck inside Pandora's Box, but at least I've managed to dig out some hope, false though it might well turn out to be.

(Third-person POV)

The dank catacombs that the five robed men entered had once been part of a church crypt; now, all that was left were mouldy skeletons and a few bricks that had once been the foundation for the small country church itself. Their footsteps sent gravel raining down the chipped, broken stairs, but none of the group paid the sound any mind. Their thoughts were focused solely on the task at hand, and to falter even the slightest bit entertained the possibility of disastrous consequences.

Of course, success would also result in objectively disastrous consequences; however, they would escape those unscathed.

To a large extent, the preparation of the sanctum for their spell was complete, being that less than a week had passed since the last time they had gathered in this spot to invoke their foul abilities. Two of their number refreshed the wards around the central pentagram while the others used relatively minor cantrips to light the innumerable braziers cluttering the room. Then, they gathered, each at one point of the pentagram, and began to chant in a language lost to all but the most demonic-spirited of human beings for centuries.

Energy began to arc along the lines of the five-pointed star between them, melding together and slowly thickening into the shape of a shifting, inky black globe. "Why has my rest been disturbed?" growled a voice from the depths of the blackness, and Gansley stepped forward, throwing back his hood.

"By the Covenant, we entreat you to carry out our commands," he stated formally, and the darkness surged against wards barely strong enough to hold it in place. Satisfied, it settled back into its usual roiling patterns.

"By the Covenant, I shall obey," came the expected reply.

Gansley smiled, reaching into the folds of his robe for a switchblade engraved with mincing patterns. Blood had filled in certain points of the inscriptions, making the spells enchanting the weapon all the more powerful. The blade shot forward, and he passed it to Crump, who stood to his right. The shorter man took the weapon, and Gansley replaced his hood before folding his arms. His role was completed; to do anything more might interfere with the ritual.

With his free hand, Crump pushed back his own hood, displaying the knife to the shifting globe. "By magic crafted, by blood written, by spirit sealed," he recited before slashing his wrist and extending it to the darkness. "Accept this offering in return for your services."

The blackness surged forward, piercing the wards through a hairline crack along one of the pentagram's lines that paralleled the breach in Crump's skin. It dove beneath his skin hungrily, and Crump's soft grunt of discomfort became a shriek of anguish as his soul was torn from his body and consumed by the dark forces to whose summoning he had contributed.

The darkness snapped back, and the wards binding it shattered. Slowly, it coalesced into the shape of a panther, with blood-red eyes. "Offering accepted," it growled. "What is your command?"

Ignoring Crump's writhing form, Gansley stepped forward, tossing a photograph of their intended prey around which were tied a few strands of blond hair into the still-not-completely-solid creature. "That is your prey," he said. "You will slaughter him."

The shadow-creature shuddered as it assimilated the information. "As you wish," it agreed, and Gansley's smile was leagues more terrible than their newly-summoned monster ever could be.

This time, Kaiba's whore won't be so lucky.


	6. Memories of a Blackened Dream

Hi again, everyone! (ducks flying objects) Okay, okay! I know, I promised an update a week, but I have been so behind, and the last part of this chapter was such a bitch to write... okay, enough of my griping. On to the thanks!

Her Esteemed Talentedness: I am so, so sorry for not having reviewed your stories, and I'm even more sorry to tell you that I probably won't have the time to get to that until Christmas Break. I do appreciate your reviews, however, so please, continue your altruistic generosity with those! Who knows, maybe one day I'll find myself with a spare hour or two, and I can sit down and give your stories the attention they deserve! In any case, thanks for understanding, and I hope you enjoy this rather long chapter!

Kumori Sakusha formerly Saelbu: Less centralized is always a good thing. Hope I continue to do that in this chapter, and thanks for understanding that I'm only a human being!

Lady Shinigami: Bingo! They were called Shadows in DMC 1, and are blissfully absent from DMC 2... I hated those things too, but at least they were a welcome change from those stupid puppets... anyway, thanks for paying enough attention to my story to catch that, and I hope to see more reviews from you! Later!

Starfly: I'm glad you think I'm a kind person; I just see it as basic human decency to care about anyone in pain, but maybe that's just me. Thank you for accepting my humble offering, and I hope that my story continues to touch you and help you through this dark time of yours. Once again, if I can be of any help... yeah, yeah, you know the drill, right? Enjoy the next chapter of your story; I'm sorry it couldn't be up sooner!

Firewing: Hmph, self-deprecating... am so not! And nor am I a genius! (laughs) And now that you can't argue with me until you read this, I'm automatically right! (flips to Internet Explorer) Now, to your review... thanks for calling this story fresh and original; it's what I was aiming for! Thanks also for your services as beta; guess it's about time I reciprocated, huh? :P

Sapphire Siren/LL: LOL, your reviews always make me smile. Thanks for your continued readership, and I hope that you continue to grace my review page with your little dialogues. See ya soon!

Hema: Unfortunately, a bunch more people died in the explosion. (moment of silence) I love Buffy too, although this scene was modelled more on my independent magical studies than anything else... don't ask, LOL. Though I feel undeserving of your praise, I appreciate it nonetheless. Thank you very much for your friendship, your trust, and your feedback; all of those mean so much more to me than you'll ever know. Love ya lots!

Queen of Games: Now, now, what did we say about OC's not advancing the plot? :P Of course, I would love to see Elizabeth kick some ass, but then there might be some Mary-Sue accusations floating around, which I don't feel like fending off... LOL. The first fight is in the next chapter, so you'll see Seto's powers firsthand if you stick around that long. Thanks for reviewing, and I hope you keep reading!

Bug-Chan: Aww, don't worry about calling Seto-kun endearing; he likes it! (grins) I agree, the supernatural thing adds so much to it, if I do say so myself, although I'm sorry to make you keep flipping back and forth. (grins) Thanks for the reviews, and I'll catch you soon! Later!

Warnings: Same as previously.

Disclaimer: I own nothing save my OC's, and the poem at the end. Speaking of which...

...the poem at the end of this chapter was written by me for this story, and is from Joey's POV on losing Seto. I decided to include it because I thought it was interesting, but if you don't like the idea, feel free to skip over it. If you do read it, however, please be sure to tell me what you think! I do appreciate any and all feedback.  On the subject, thanks to my beta, Firewing, for fixing up the last stanza... you rock! 

Chapter 6- Memories of a Blackened Dream

(Joey's POV)

Elizabeth and I are on the next flight back to Domino. Though there's nothing to see but the ocean, I spend more time staring out the window than talking to her. The water reminds me of him; so blue, and clear; cold, yet refreshing; outwardly calm yet inwardly chaotic.

I give a tiny snort of laughter, and Elizabeth looks up from the magazine she bought at the airport. "Everything reminds me of Seto," I confide, and she closes it immediately. "Like I need to be reminded at all."

She drapes an arm around me, and I lean against her as best I can with the armrest separating us. "I know," she says. "I can see it in your face."

"It'll be worse when we get back home," I say, and she sighs.

"Probably." She gives me a quick squeeze, and I force my mouth into a perfectly horizontal line, as close to a smile as I can muster. "But I'll be right there with you, and we'll get through it together, just like we always do."

"Thank you," I say for what seems to be the fiftieth time since this morning, and she grins bravely.

"Best friends are more than shopping buddies, right?" As soon as these words leave her lips, she becomes deadly serious. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be," she says honestly, and I love her every bit as strongly as I ever loved Seto, though there's no comparing the two feelings. While it's true that both are deeply spiritual, Seto and I shared so much more, and that train of thought sends me back to the window.

I conjure Seto's image in my mind, concentrating not on his physical appearance but on the soul behind it, the part of him that I know survived the explosion. _Can you hear me, Seto? Please, answer me if you can. Please let me know you're okay._

I close my eyes, allowing complete blankness to seep into my mind, but no answer comes. Tears form behind my eyelids, and I rub them away roughly as the peaceful, white canvas in my head is splashed with angry red. Politely, Elizabeth pretends not to notice.

What did I expect, a fucking visitation? Did I expect him to show up, to declare himself my guardian angel, to swear to stay with me forever and to love me for twice as long?

"That's already happened," I whisper, and Elizabeth's eyes flick in my direction. "And now he's gone. My life's all uphill from here."

Elizabeth says nothing. Evidently, not even she can put any sort of positive spin on that.

---

(Seto's POV)

An unfamiliar sound jars me awake, and as my eyes snap open, I am suddenly conscious of another presence in the abandoned store. Reflexively, my hands dart to my blades, though I haven't perfected their use by a long shot, and I scan my present surroundings. Across the room, the homeless man has lapsed into a catatonic trance, but there doesn't appear to be anything physically wrong with him. _I don't suppose we're under attack, then. Maybe it was just another vagrant..._

I turn to settle back against the least filthy wall in the abandoned husk of a building and come face to face with a sparkling pair of chestnut eyes. With a shout of surprise, I leap back, swinging the sword in my left hand, and the homeless man lifts his head just far enough to stare blankly at me.

My blade clashes against a bright orange gauntlet with a deafening clatter. "And here I thought you'd appreciate some actual company," laughs the Reaper, jabbing a thumb toward the homeless man. "Goodness knows you can't be having any sort of deep, meaningful conversations with him."

I growl, thrusting my swords through my belt as my eyes take in his Day-Glo tinted armour. "I thought your were supposed to wear black."

He sniffs. "You try wearing black for a few millennia, and we'll see how much you like it. I needed some variety."

"And none of your precious rules mention a dress code?" Dimly, I realize that we're engaged in inane banter, but being cut off from all other contact with sentient individuals for a few days has made me more than happy to take whatever interaction I can get.

"Even if they did, people usually have more on their minds than my wardrobe when we meet." Elegant features twist into an amused smirk. "I don't recall you whining about it last time; you were more worried about your precious lover."

I growl. "His name is Joey."

The Reaper snorts. "As though I care." He walks past me, spinning around again after a few steps. "You humans attach such importance to your names. You fight over who gets credit for what, over who will be mentioned in the history books. Yet they are so unimportant, so transient. Will anyone remember that you were once one of the ten richest men in two hundred years from now? Will anyone care who Seto Kaiba was, and that he died tragically in an explosion, even three months from this moment?" He stares at me, almost right through me. "Will you care that your lover was called Joey ten seconds after you're both dead? I doubt it very much."

Questions swirl around in my head, and I grasp one at random. "Why are you telling me this?" I ask, realizing as I speak that this is the kind of wisdom that people spend their whole lives trying to achieve.

He shrugs. "Just because I'm a supernatural being doesn't mean I need a reason for everything I do, you know," he says, his cavalier attitude back in place.

"Yet you must certainly have had a reason to come here in the first place," I parry gracefully, redirecting the conversation. "What is it?"

He sighs around a chuckle. "Always have to get to the point with you, don't I? Very well; your _Joey _is on his way back home as we speak."

The emphasis placed on Joey's name is lost amid the fog of panic that settles over me at his words. _By the time I get there, anything could have happened._ "Why did you wait so long to tell me this?!" I demand. "How the Hell am I supposed to get all the way to Japan before those bastards try something?"

"Well, you can't," he admitted. "Their spell is already cast."

My heart sinks to the floor. "Then it's over," I say, tearing my blades from my belt and throwing them down dejectedly. All the cold nights, the hunger, the pain of immolated muscles stretching with each movement... for what? I wasn't able to save him. "I let him down again."

"I didn't say that," replies the Reaper, and I hear a soft scraping as he retrieves my weapons from the ground. "You're lucky; this time, they chose to use a Summoning instead of an Invocation. Probably didn't want to create another freak accident so soon; might raise suspicions."

I stare at him blankly. "And in layman's terms, that means..."

"The summoned creature must reach him itself before it can do any damage." Though his voice is nothing like music, his words are sweeter than any lyrics I have ever had the pleasure of hearing. "You still have time, but we have to act fast." He flicks his wrists sharply, and the hilts of my blades are hovering before me, suspended in thin air. "Well? Do you want to try, or do I walk off with your soul right now?"

Silently, I take my blades and slide them back into my belt. "Okay. What do we do?"

He extends his hand, palm up, and a globe of brilliant orange light bathes the room in an incandescent glow. The homeless man cowers in a far corner, thoroughly terrified. "Lucky for us, Satanists aren't the only ones with magic," he says with a wink. "Take us to Domino City."

The globe flashes, and my vision fades into a wall of orange light brighter than any humanly ignited flame.

----

(Joey's POV)

Until our cab stopped in front of the mansion, I had thought that getting off the plane and walking past the bar where Seto, who was always a nervous flyer, had had his customary double shot of whiskey before we left would be the hardest thing I had ever done. Now, clutching the keys to our home in one sweaty hand, I know that that was just the warm-up.

But then Elizabeth's beside me, guiding my hand to the keyhole, and I somehow dredge up the energy to turn it in the lock.

The doors swing open on well-crafted and recently-oiled hinges. Ordinarily, a maid would be bustling around, pushing a cart of cleaning supplies and scrubbing at dirt that, though I've never seen it, Seto insists exists. _Insisted. He's gone now, remember?_ Now, the entire staff's been given a month's paid vacation until I can decide what to do with this place, and with the rest of the gravel and sand that used to be my life.

Dazed, I wander through the entrance hall; Elizabeth stays back. She knows enough about me to know that I have to deal with my ghosts myself, or they'll just keep coming back to haunt me.

Climbing the stairs is completely out of the question; there is no way I can face the bed in which we spent so many nights, the closet full of our clothing, or the computer that stole so much of his time and soul first. _Damn corporation killed him. God-damn thing destroyed everything good in my life. I hate it._

And yet, pipes up a voice in my mind, _you're going to run it._

, pipes up a voice in my mind, 

I smile brokenly as I begin my journey into agony. _It was what he wanted._

The living room is the first one I enter, my steps immediately becoming silent as I move from marble to linoleum. Slowly, my eyes take in the entire scene; the insanely huge TV set into the wall, the DVD player and VCR lying between it and the stereo that I fell in love with in the electronics store one day because it had a karaoke feature. We only used it once, and I can still hear his voice as the last notes of 'Because You Loved Me' faded into auditory oblivion. _You can't sing worth a damn, Joey, but I like your version a hell of a lot better than Celine Dion's._

My fingers slide along the stereo's silver casing. "You always had a way of doing that, didn't you?" I whisper, imagining him standing right behind me. "Of wrapping a compliment in an insult in a compliment, until nobody knew where they stood anymore." I give a tiny sniff of laughter. "I spent so much time trying to dissect them, to figure out exactly what you were trying to say and how you meant for it to come out." Tears form at the corners of my eyes, but if I start crying on the first room, I'll never get through the whole house. "Maybe I should have spent it with you instead."

My eyes drift from the stereo to the couch, and I run my gaze over the single grease stain on the left armrest. He would never let anyone eat anything potentially messy anywhere but the kitchen or the dining room, but he had made an exception that one night because I said the movie wouldn't be the same without popcorn. Of course, I wound up dousing the couch in hot butter. I was so sure he would start screaming, but he just kissed my forehead, and whispered, _Maybe next time you'll listen to me, hmm?_

"You always kept me guessing," I sigh as I cross the entrance hall to the dining room. "Even after all that time, you still had that power, and I don't think I ever told you how much I liked being kept off balance like that." I bite my lip, staving off a whimper as I pass through Elizabeth's field of vision. The front is more from habit than anything else. "Did you know anyway?"

I can still remember the first time I saw this oak table; sanded and polished to perfection, I couldn't believe that it had once been a tree. It was too perfect, too artificial, to be anything but synthetic. My hands trail over the backs of the rows of chairs; I never understood why we needed such a big table. We never had people over, and our places never changed; he'd always be at the head, and I'd be right next to him. I drape my arms around the back of his chair, resting my chin against the top of it and closing my eyes, imagining I can breathe in the shards of his spirit left behind in the furniture.

Maybe if I can inhale enough of his soul, I'll get my own back.

---

Forty-five minutes later, the bedroom is all that's left. Elizabeth's in the living room, idly channel-surfing through muted television stations and fighting the urge to hurry me along, force her help on me, or both. Slowly, I go up the stairs, clutching the gilded banister. I'm completely exhausted, and I still have to face the worst part of this entire expedition. Briefly, I consider leaving the bedroom until another time, but shake my head violently almost immediately thereafter. _If I stop now, I'll never have the guts to come back._

The guest rooms fly by, and I stop in front of an ornate door set into the right end of the hallway. It's slightly larger than the others, and I sigh heavily. _Master bedroom. Come on, Joey, you can do it._

My hand hovers above the door handle, falls back to my side, and hovers again. Butterflies start slamming into my insides, and I suddenly remember the first time I stood in this very spot. We'd been going out for a year or so, and though I'd been over to the mansion a bunch of times, I had only stayed over once, and then in a guest room. Seto was the total opposite of every other guy I'd dated; he seemed to have no interest whatsoever in getting into my pants, although our making out always left us both breathless. I had offered him sex once, a few months into the relationship, and he had just smiled and kissed my lips softly. I can still feel his breath against my mouth as he whispered, _When you're actually ready._

That night, we had come back to his place after eating at some new restaurant. I remember that the bill was something crazy, but he paid it like it was nothing more than a few dollars. _I'm used to money, _he had said on one of our first dates, _but even though you might see me throwing it around sometimes, it's not because I take it for granted. I just don't see any other use for it but making those you care about happy._ So, I had gotten kind of used to him spending hundreds of dollars on dates, even though my mouth always dried up when I saw him sign off on the bill.

Anyway, we were lying on the couch with the TV on when I looked up at him and asked to sleep over. He raised an eyebrow, nodded slowly, and asked whether the same guest room would do once more. I seem to remember smiling innocently as I shook my head, leaned over his chest to kiss his left ear, and whispered, "I'd rather try out the master bedroom this time, if it's all the same to you."

There had been no doubt in my mind that that was what I wanted, not what I thought he wanted of me, but once we got to the bedroom, I was so nervous that I could barely lift my hand to open the door. I remember being scared that I wouldn't be good enough, that I'd do or say something wrong. Most clearly of all, though, I remember the way his arms slid across my chest, pulling me against him as he kissed my hair. _No matter what happens, tonight or any night, I'll still love you. My only wish is that you will continue to grace my life with your presence once we've crossed this line._

I was never scared to enter our room again after that; not until today, at least.

Frowning, I force myself to imagine his body against me, just as it was that first night. I feel the smoothness of his mouth, the gentleness of his embrace. Drunk on these imagined feelings like I never was on alcohol, I push open the door before my fear can stop me again.

The room's dark, and the first thing I do is push the curtains back. Immediately, I wish I hadn't; in the light, I can see every piece of familiar furniture, and the memories attached to them slam into my mind all at once.

I look at the chair where he would always sit and read before bed, and I see him, turn the page gracefully, the same way he always did everything. I look at our wardrobe, and see him adjusting his trench coat in the mirrored doors, his briefcase on the floor beside his feet. _Do you think the arm belts are a bit much for a board meeting? _I hear him ask, and my lips trace out the reply. _Who cares? Aren't you the boss?_

The Playstation 2 attached to the huge television reminds me of us attempting to play Dance Dance Revolution, and I walk over to it dazedly, remembering the way he used to move, as though his body were made totally of water. _Just another thing I admired about him without ever letting him know it._

Finally, I turn to face the computer desk. The screen is dark, almost dead. The black keys are covered in a thin layer of dust, and I run my hands over them, feeling the especially smooth spots that his fingers would hit so many times a night. I love it because he seemed to, and hate it for the same reason.

In a sudden fit of rage, I tear the power strip's cord out of the wall socket before shoving the monitor to the floor. The screen shatters, but that sound is lost among the noise that follows as I overturn the desk, sending diskettes, CD's, and blueprints scattering all over the place.

"God damn you to fucking Hell!" I cry, rage and sorrow twisting my voice as I kick the wreckage of the screen, succeeding only in hurting my foot in the process. Grunting, I hop back, crushing a bunch of disks with a satisfying noise. "I hate this! I hate everything! If it weren't for the fucking Corporation.... if he wasn't a Kaiba... if he wasn't so damn gifted... I'd still have him!" My fury slowly bleeds back into a crippling, depressing pain, and I leave the scrap metal behind, shuffling over to our bed as though in a daze.

"But if he wasn't... he would never have been Seto to begin with." My voice drops to a low mumble, and I climb into our bed fully clothed, sinking into silk sheets and feather pillows. "He wouldn't have been the same man I fell in love with. I would never have known him at all, and no matter what the trade-off, I'm glad I had that much, at least." I bury my face in his pillow, breathing deeply, imagining that he's just in the shower, or fixing breakfast. "I just wish it had been so much more."

An intense mental exhaustion hits me then, and I lack even the strength to hold my eyes open for another agonizing second. _I miss you, Seto, _I think as I drift off, believing with the desperate faith of those whose hope has been completely shattered that he will be able to hear me.

Though I never believed in life after death before, I sure as Hell do now. The thought of even his spirit disappearing completely is too much for me to bear.

Memories of a Blackened Dream

Your soul is forever imprinted on mine,

A jewel which sparkles like the finest wine.

It is my security, my foil, my chain,

That which will forever keep us bound in twain.

Willingly, I was bound to you,

And this pain tears me just as you made me new.

In the wake of such passion, I can't help but feel

So empty, so soulless, my happiness sealed.

I drift between bitter tears and blind rage

Until my mind is again an empty page

Stained only by the dull, harsh red

That soaked it when they declared you dead.

Those cruel words, I shall never believe,

As my endless agony remains unrelieved.

Under ashes lie our life's scheme;

Death is nothing but a blackened dream.


End file.
